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With You In My Life
My Life was a book of empty pages,
Some shredded in rages,
Others crayoned in black,
Proof how my life was a wreck.
An Eastern Ballad
I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.
Among the dwellers in the silent fields
The natural heart is touched, and public way
And crowded street resound with ballad strains,
Inspired by one whose very name bespeaks
Absalom And Achitophel
In pious times, ere priest-craft did begin,
Before polygamy was made a sin;
When man, on many, multipli'd his kind,
Ere one to one was cursedly confin'd:
A Ballad Of Footmen
Now what in the name of the sun and the stars
Is the meaning of this most unholy of wars?
Do men find life so full of humour and joy
These tales of old disguisings, are they not
Strange myths of souls that found themselves among
Unwonted folk that spake an hostile tongue,
Some soul from all the rest who'd not forgot
The Ballad Of Blasphemous Bill
I took a contract to bury the body of blasphemous Bill MacKie,
Whenever, wherever or whatsoever the manner of death he die-
Whether he die in the light o' day or under the peak-faced moon;
In cabin or dance-hall, camp or dive, mucklucks or patent shoon;
Sing her a song of the sun:
Fill it with tones of the stream, â??
Echoes of waters that run
Glad with the gladdening gleam.
Ballad Of The Army Carts
Wagons rattling and banging,
horses neighing and snorting,
conscripts marching, each with bow and arrows at his hip,
fathers and mothers, wives and children, running to see them off--
The Ballad Of Ahmed Shah
This is the ballad of Ahmed Shah
Dealer in tats in the Sudder Bazar,
By the gate that leads to the Gold Minar
How he was done by a youth from Morar.
A sultry garden stood the night.
We kept silent ourselves about what grips us horribly.
The Ballad Of Ben Hall's Gang
Come all ye wild colonials And listen to my tale;
A story of bushrangers' deeds I will to you unveil.
'Tis of those gallant heroes, Game fighters one and all;
And we'll sit and sing, Long Live the King,
Caledonia: A Ballad
THERE was once a day, but old Time wasythen young,
That brave Caledonia, the chief of her line,
From some of your northern deities sprung,
(Who knows not that brave Caledonia's divine?)
A WONDERFUL age
Is now on the stage:
I'll sing you a song, if I can,
How modern Whigs,
The Deserted Village
Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visits paid,
And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed:
The following Ballad is merely a versification of one of the
many feats of Waldemar, the famed phantom hunter of the
North, an account of whom, and of Palnatoka and Groon the
Jutt, both spectres of a similar character, may be found in
The Ballad Of Salvation Bill
'Twas in the bleary middle of the hard-boiled Arctic night,
I was lonesome as a loon, so if you can,
Imagine my emotions of amazement and delight
When I bumped into that Missionary Man.
The King Of Ys
Wild across the Breton country,
Fabled centuries ago,
Riding from the black sea border,
Came the squadrons of the snow.
In a costly palace Youth goes clad in gold;
In a wretched workhouse Age's limbs are cold:
There they sit, the old men by a shivering fire,
Still close and closer cowering, warmth is their desire.
A Hidden Life
Proudly the youth, sudden with manhood crowned,
Went walking by his horses, the first time,
That morning, to the plough. No soldier gay
Feels at his side the throb of the gold hilt
On Seeing A Pupil Of Kung-sun Dance The Chien-ch`i
On the nineteenth day of the tenth month of the second year of Ta-li (15 November 767), in the residence of
Yuan Ch`ih, Lieutenant-Governor of K`uei-chou, I saw Li Shih-er-niang of Lin-ying dance the chien-ch`i.
Impressed by the brilliance and thrust of her style, I asked her whom she had studied under. ``I am a pupil of
Kung-sun'', was the reply.
Ballad Of The Army Carts
The carts squeak and trundle, the horses whinny, the conscripts go by, each
with a bow and arrows at his waist. Their fathers, mothers, wives, and children
run along beside them to see them off. The Hsien-yang Bridge cannot be seen for
dust. They pluck at the men's clothes, stamp their feet, or stand in the way
The Ballad Of The Leather Medal
Only a Leather Medal, hanging there on the wall,
Dingy and frayed and faded, dusty and worn and old;
Yet of my humble treasures I value it most of all,
And I wouldn't part with that medal if you gave me its weight in gold.
A faithless shepherd courted me,
He stole away my liberty.
When my poor heart was strange to men,
He came and smiled and stole it then.
Be hush'd, be hush'd, ye bitter winds,
Ye pelting rains, a little rest;
Lie still, lie still, ye busy thoughts,
That wring with grief my aching breast.
Henry Kirk White
Give to barrows, trays, and pans
Grace and glimmer of romance;
Bring the moonlight into noon
Hid in gleaming piles of stone;
Ralph Waldo Emerson
No man hath dared to write this thing as yet,
And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great
At times pass athrough us,
And we are melted into them, and are not
The Ballad Of Touch-the-button Nell
Beyond the Rocking Bridge it lies, the burg of evil fame,
The huts where hive and swarm and thrive the sisterhood of shame.
Through all the night each cabin light goes out and then goes in,
A blood-red heliograph of lust, a semaphore of sin.
The Ballad Of Pious Pete
“The North has got him.”-Yukonism.
I tried to refine that neighbor of mine, honest to God, I did.
I grieved for his fate, and early and late I watched over him like a kid.
A heart laments: you do not find her,
Her native country is probably far from here,